Daily Read #34: Must be Santa

So both my parents are elementary teachers and they along with every teacher in the world (well at least the Western World) deserves your thoughts and prayers today. Take the excitement of a single child multiply it by 28 to the power of 2 because there is definitely a synergy effect when you get 28 7 year olds counting down to Christmas and put them in a box that is roughly 40 feet by 40 feet for the day as it snows out side and oh by the way you're in charge of teaching them to READ. How many of you would rather spend the day in the Hanoi Hilton?

It's unfortunate that we haven't found a way to convert that excitement into energy, as it is likely enough to power an aircraft carrier--even one that has decked its halls with strands of LED lights and space heaters.

The terrible part for my mom is that she knows what it's like to be on the giving end of the carpool and not just the receiving. She knows that she and her colleagues are the sacrificial offering on the yuletide log. For it is better that one teacher's sanity parish than an entire classroom of parents spend two additional days of the advent threatening to cancel Christmas if you don't stop playing dodge ball with the ornaments from the Christmas tree.

Don't even get me started on the fact that school teachers can literally eat their Christmas 'bonus'. Clearly who ever is making that budget decision doesn't do more than drop their kids off at school; actually scratch that, even the parents that drop off and pick up their kids get a sense of the chaos that is December at an elementary school with the average class size of 27 as they pass the riot police that make the protesters at the G8 summit look like A Sunday afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte. The kids of these tight wads are probably bussed.

Anyway consider upping the ante a bit on that Christmas gift card for the first grade teacher in your life and make it to here rather than Walmart.

Now that slight soapbox tirade was not the intended direction of this post. I was really going to devote the post to one of the most purely joyful/magical Christmas memories of my childhood. Yes I had both: a childhood and a magical Christmas memory or two. Remember every Scrooge has a Fezziwig.

I probably could have done some fact-finding to better crystallize this memory but it might lose some of its magic. I was no older than 5. We were at a family Christmas party at my Grandparents house in New Castle, UT. Never heard of it? I'm sure you have; you pass it on your way to Beryl or Modena.

Still nothing? Here's a map

So even as a pre-5 year old I knew that very few people in the world knew where New Castle UT was. I grew up 30 minutes west of New Castle and I'd imagine that a good many of my peers had no idea even up through high school. But someone very important knows where New Castle is, give you a few hints.

Think Red.
Think Jolly.
Think Ho,Ho,Ho.

He not only knows where New Castle is but he's been there at least once. The party had been going for quite a while and we had likely been enjoying some of my Grandma's delicious holiday fixings when came a knock at the door. It caught our attention because again this is New Castle and it was snowing. We heard the jingle of the bells on his bag of gifts as he walked in.

Us kids had to pick our jaws up out of the green shag carpet. He was everything Santa should be. This was no creepy mall Santa. This was St. Nicholas incarnate. Every detail was legit. The beard, the belly, the rosy cheeks, black boots, red velvet and fur trimmed coat and pants. He was more Santa than this poser:



We all sat on his lap without having to stand in a line that started in a food court. And I'm pretty sure he brought us presents that we got to open that night. I was a Christmas skeptic from a very young age but this single encounter with Santa Claus was very difficult evidence to discount. I had been thorough in checking to see if any uncle, father, grandfather was missing and they were not.

I would have been no less impressed had he come down the chimney which I think this guy would have had it not been converted to a wood stove.

I don't remember if Santa ever came back like that again, he didn't need to; the magic of that moment has had definite staying power; it's doubtful I could forget it and arguable that I wouldn't want to.

Darn it; I've got to go throw snowballs at carolers before I experience any more thawing of my Christmas heart.

Thanks Santa.